


Weakness

by dragonspell



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: M/M, Non-Chronological
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 12:45:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6520279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonspell/pseuds/dragonspell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Weakness gets you killed.  It was one of the first things that Leonard ever learned from his father.  Showing weakness, giving the perception of it, that means that you’re a liability, and if you’re a liability then you’re better off dead.  Keep up and keep your mouth shut.</p><p>(Spoilers for episode 1x10)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Weakness

Weakness gets you killed. It was one of the first things that Leonard ever learned from his father. Showing weakness, giving the perception of it, that means that you’re a liability, and if you’re a liability then you’re better off dead. Keep up and keep your mouth shut.

Leonard gingerly touches the giant bruise that has become his face and hisses at the pain. Mick’s never been the type of guy to hold back and Leonard has never expected him to. Actually, it kind of surprises Leonard that he’s still alive. From the moment that he’d stepped into Mick’s makeshift prison to just about a moment before Mick had lowered his fist, Leonard had thought that he was going to die.

He was weak, and weakness gets you killed. It would have been only right. But Mick let him live.

The thought grips his heart, makes it seize, thumps it painfully in his chest. He doesn’t like where that thought leads, never has. This thing, he’s felt it before and it’s always felt like he’s dying. He drops his hand and leaves the bruises that Mick gave him alone. They’re punishment, and he accepts them. They mean survival and survival is good. At least he thinks it is.

It’s too bad that simple survival is the only thing that he’s got going for him right now. It’s weak of him to want more. He shouldn’t. It’s dangerous. Weakness only gets you killed.

Except when it doesn’t.

Leonard sinks down beside the wall. He’ll wait. It’s as good a place as any and his legs don’t seem to want to stand anymore. He tells himself that it’s a choice.

He knows that it’s not.

* * *

The heavy fist slams into his face, snapping Leonard’s head to the side. Leonard should return the blow, or at least duck the next, but he does neither. _He deserves this._

Mick hits him with another. This time, Leonard hits back, but he doesn’t bother to put his weight into it. Nor does he block the following blow even though Mick telegraphed laughably early. _He deserves this._

Weakness gets you killed and Leonard has always been weak around Mick. He tries to pretend that he’s not but he knows better. Leonard’s been too weak to do right by Mick for a long time, too selfish, too…emotional. This is what it gets him.

It fits. He’s glad that it’s Mick. He wouldn’t want it to be anybody else. Mick’s next hit takes him to the ground and Leonard can’t get back up before Mick’s on him. And then he doesn’t bother anymore. Survival instincts kick in for a minute, trying to get Mick off of him, but then Leonard thinks that, no, this is right. This is how it ends. This time, he’ll finally do something right for a change.

So he waits.

He likes that the last thing he’s going to see is going to be Mick. It kind of brings things around again. And, yeah, okay, maybe this is a little selfish. In a way, it’s like he’s bringing Mick with him. But Leonard can’t do it any other way. Ever since they met, he’s never been able to truly walk away from Mick. He can do it for a little while, but he always comes back.

And somewhere, in the back of his mind, Leonard always thought that things might end up this way. There was always this possibility.

It doesn’t matter, because he deserves this, for everything that he’s done.

He should have come back for Mick. He should have killed him like he said he was going to. He should have left him in 2046. He shouldn’t have talked Mick into leaving 2016. He should have left Mick alone after they’d said that they were through. He should have walked away the moment they’d left juvie. He should have been strong enough to handle those punks on his own.

* * *

Fourteen years old and too stupid to know not to let himself get separated from the group. His father had shot men for less. It had landed him in juvie, and it had landed him with his back against the wall and no guards in sight. Leonard thinks there’s a very real possibility that he could die today. _Weakness gets you killed._ He can’t fight back, not in any way that matters, because the other boys just laugh and hit him harder. Doesn’t stop him from trying.

“Gonna make you bleed, rat,” one says. Searing pain blossoms in his stomach. When he looked down, he sees the shiv sticking out of him, right before it’s pulled out and shoved in again. 

“Gonna make you scream,” another whispers. Leonard doesn’t have the breath to scream. He wants to say so but he doesn’t have the breath to do that either.

“Are you crying yet?”

“Not half as much as you’re going to be,” a new voice rasps and there’s a loud thud of impact but no accompanying pain. Leonard curls in on himself more. _This is it_ , he thinks, _I’m finally dying._ What else could it mean when he can’t feel the pain anymore?

“Fuck you, Rory!” Another impact, this time with a scream. But it isn’t Leonard’s. Leonard’s breath catches in his throat. He doesn’t understand.

“ _Leave._ ” The sound of running, and then… “You okay?” A hand touches his shoulder and Leonard starts to tremble. He can’t help himself. He’s too far gone. “Fuck, okay, let’s go then,” and he’s being lifted by strong arms and tucked against a warm chest, the steady thump of a heartbeat beneath Leonard’s cheek. “It’ll be okay,” the voice says and Leonard finally dares to look, opening his eyes despite the stinging blood. For a moment, he wonders if an angel had come to rescue him. Backlit against the fluorescents, the boy looks like one of those stained glass windows you’d find in a church. When he was little, Leonard’s mother had taken him every Sunday she could—which was to say every Sunday she wasn’t still hungover from Friday and Saturday. He’d look at the windows and wonder what other fairy tales existed.

And that’s just it. Angels and God, good things happening to good people, those are just fairy tales, things that people tell themselves to make them feel better. They don’t exist.

The world spins woozily around Leonard, and he shakes his head trying to clear it. Pain stabs into his skull and he can’t stop the pathetic whimper that slips out. “Fuck,” his angel says. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Just…hang on or something.” The world dims at the edges and since Leonard is dying, he dares a touch, running his finger over a jaw that intermittently pricks with stubble. His heart thumps and he has an urge to feel with his whole hand.

“’S odd,” he mutters.

His imaginary angel looks concerned. “What is?” he asks. “What’s odd?” Leonard doesn’t answer. When he wakes up a day later and finds out that the angel is named Mick Rory, he can’t even remember what he’d been thinking about, can’t remember much besides Mick running with him in his arms.

* * *

“Mr. Snart?”

Leonard opens his eyes. The wall in front of him blurs then focuses again. “Yes, Gideon?”

“You seem to have extensive injuries from your altercation with Mr. Rory. Perhaps you should come to the Infirmary?”

Despite the pain it causes, Leonard cracks a smile. “Probably.” He runs his fingers over the cold metal alloy of the Waverider’s floor. All of him feels cold, colder than normal. He wishes he knew where he’d put his parka.

“And yet you don’t seem to be moving.”

“Nope.” Leonard actually doubts whether he has the energy to stand without help now. His legs seem content to stay where they are.

“I’m detecting several lacerations, severe bruising, and what appears to be internal bleeding and a possible concussion.”

“You should see the other guy.” 

“Mr. Rory seems to be suffering from no ill effects from your interaction with him. With the possible exception of bruised knuckles.” _Ah, Gideon._ It had sounded funnier in his head. Leonard huffs a laugh anyway, then hisses as it sends pain spiking through his brain. “You should come to the Infirmary, Mr. Snart.”

Leonard winces. “I’ll be fine.”

“I’m sure you will be. After you come to the Infirmary.”

“Anyone ever tell you what a nag you are, Gideon?”

“Whenever I advise someone on the best course of action when the best course of action is not something that he wishes to do.” Of course. Sometimes, Leonard forgets that he is talking to a computer. “I’ll have the Infirmary prepped for you, Mr. Snart. In case you decide to visit.”

“Thank you, Gideon.” Leonard lets his head roll to the side and then regrets it as the world spins around him.

“Why do you thank that thing?” From Leonard’s position on the floor, Mick looks like a giant towering above him, impossibly strong and powerful. Of course, Leonard has firsthand knowledge of just how strong Mick is. He’s backlit by the overhead lights and it feels like déjà vu though Leonard can’t quite think of why.

Leonard shrugs. “Just seems like the thing to do.”

“Like trying to let me kill you was the thing to do?”

Oh, and right back to the questions that Leonard wanted to avoid. He’d traded in Gideon for Mick. Leonard didn’t think that he liked that deal. Mick was easier to avoid than Gideon, but much harder to brush off. “I’m still alive. Thanks to you.”

Mick looks away to glare at the wall. “Yeah, but not for much longer if that machine is right.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve lived through worse.” He’d add a ‘remember?’ because Mick had been there and usually that works to get Mick off his back, but it’s not something he wants either of them to be thinking about right now. Or ever.

Mick sighs. “What are you doing here, Snart?”

And back to last names. When they’re alone and there’s no one to pretend in front of, Mick only calls him ‘Snart’ when he’s pissed. Fair enough. Leonard can’t possibly comprehend what Mick’s been through during what had just been a handful of days for Leonard, but he knows that Mick’s got reason enough to be mad. More than enough.

Leonard knows why he’s here. He just doesn’t think that he wants to voice it out loud. So he shrugs again and tries to hide the resulting wince. “Don’t know.”

“Really.” It’s not a question.

* * *

“What are you doing here, Len?”

Leonard skirts around the outside of the space that Mick’s claimed as his temporary room, pretending to inspect the boxes. He’s fooling absolutely no one but it’s not like he’s trying to. He just doesn’t have the courage to face Mick head on right now.

“Job went fine,” Mick says. Leonard shrugs. Fine was an apt description. Not great but not bad, either. Mick had had to take out a security guard that Leonard hadn’t accounted for. It’d been a stupid mistake, one that might have gotten them caught, but Mick’s fists had taken care of it. Mick’s fists took care of a lot of things. Leonard lets his eyes wander over to the fists in question, follows them up the strong forearms and the muscles that Mick keeps adding to, across to Mick’s bare chest, and Leonard’s thoughts attempt to run away with him. He forces himself back to the boxes. They were safe.

“I need to plan better next time.”

“Next job or next time you try to talk to me in my underwear?” Leonard stops dead and fights the flush that’s threatening to overwhelm his face. Mick, the bastard, is grinning. Leonard wonders how much he’d given away by simply stepping inside Mick’s space without an excuse. “’Cause it could be going better, but it’s not all bad.”

Leonard swallows. His eyes go back to Mick, despite the fact that Leonard’s not sure if that’s the best course of action right now. It’s just rare to see Mick like this and it’s messing with Leonard’s head. Mick looks…vulnerable?

 _Sexy_ , a voice supplies, and Leonard swallows again. Yeah, okay. Leonard turns to face Mick dead on. “And how could it be going better?” he asks. The rational, reasonable side of him demands to know what the hell he thinks he’s doing, but it’s drowned out by the way that Mick’s eyes narrow and the easy way he leans back against his chair. 

“You could be in your underwear, too.”

Leonard stares at Mick, mind spinning in circles. Is this how it’s going to go down? Does he want this to happen? Why would he have come to Mick if he didn’t? Is this really alright? Mick grins, slow and easy, like he’s hearing Leonard’s panicked inner thoughts and it’s all it takes to silence all of them. Leonard grabs the edge of his shirt and pulls it off. “This better?” he asks.

A flick of pink darts from Mick’s mouth as he licks his lips and Leonard aches to see more. Physically aches. “Gettin’ that way.” Mick holds out a hand and Leonard doesn’t pretend it’s not exactly what he wants.

* * *

Leonard wants things to be different, wishes that he could go back and just change everything. Make this better.

Leonard hadn’t expected it to hurt. He is Captain Cold. He doesn’t have emotions, isn’t that what they say? Heartless, a criminal, _cold_.

And Leonard’s killed before. He know he has. But besides his father, he never knew their names and Mick’s not just a someone, he’s Mick and he’s a person and he _matters._ He matters in ways that Leonard’s never admitted to anyone but himself and now he’s just supposed to end it all.

That’s what everyone’s expecting. He’d carried Mick’s unconscious body off the ship and they’d all just let him go. They knew. They had to know. And it was what they wanted. 

Bunch of fucking hypocrites. Didn’t want to dirty their own hands, but by God they’d use Leonard’s. Pretend that they were still all high and mighty on their moral high horses while they had Leonard drag Mick out back and shoot him like a rabid dog.

 _Fuck them._ Fuck them all.

Mick deserves better than this. Life has never given him a chance. Leonard never has either, even though he’s wanted to. It was Leonard’s choices that had led them here, Leonard’s actions and his goddamned _feelings_.

Leonard wishes he was as cold as everyone says that he is. Life would be easier that way. It was his feelings for Mick that hadn’t let him accept Mick’s desire to stay in 2046, his feelings that had talked Mick into coming along in the first place. And now it was his feelings that were going to make him…

Going to make him…

Leonard drops the leg that he’s been using to drag Mick with and spins around. He can’t even fucking think it. What makes him think that he’s going to be able to actually _do_ it? It’s Mick— _fucking Mick_ —laying there and Leonard’s supposed to ice him because Mick can’t be trusted on his own.

Mick’s only gotten crazier as he’s gotten older. Gotten scarier. More fiery, more out of control, more obsessed. And what’s Leonard done about that? Watched him. Just fucking watched him. Kept him from straying too far off the reservation but doing absolutely nothing to stop Mick from sinking deeper.

Just as long as Mick was still there. As long as Leonard got to see him, touch him, talk to him, pretend that everything was fine. What did Leonard care, right? Just as long as Mick was still around to pull off a job or _fuck_ , then what did it matter?

And that leads them to now. Now, where Leonard’s going to give Mick the only help he can: six feet of dirt and a thanks for the memories.

Or maybe he won’t. Because he can’t. He can’t do it. Just fucking can’t and fuck them for thinking that he can, that it would be easy for him to kill a man he’s been with for thirty fucking years. Goddamned fucking son of a bitch. Leonard doesn’t know if he’s even capable of love after all he’s been through, but if he is, then he loves Mick. Loves him like he loves Lisa because Leonard can’t imagine a world in which one of those two people don’t exist.

That’s why he can’t let Mick go, though. Mick’s angry. He feels betrayed. And Leonard doesn’t blame him. But Mick’s capable of doing a lot of scary things when he wants to, things that he’ll do in the heat of the moment that maybe he’ll regret later and maybe he won’t, and Leonard just can’t take that chance.

He can’t kill Mick, but he can leave him. For a little while. He’ll come back. Leonard always comes back for Mick. He does. 

So why does it feel like he’s dying inside?

* * *

Gideon’s little gizmos and doodads are light years beyond anything 2016 has ever seen but that still doesn’t mean that there’s an easy fix for cracked ribs, bruising or a concussion. And pain still hurts.

Mick leans against the wall, silent as he watches as Gideon stitches Leonard back together piece by piece. Leonard can’t look at him, because it just reminds him of everything that he’s done wrong. Mick’s got a lot of reasons to be angry at him, to be bitter, and Leonard’s not going to begrudge him a single thing.

Mick had carried Leonard to the Infirmary. Hadn’t accepted Leonard’s insistence that he was fine, especially not once it became obvious that Leonard wasn’t moving not because he didn’t want to, but because he couldn’t. Leonard could have done without the damsel-in-distress treatment, carried bridal style into the Infirmary, but by the time that Mick had done it, Leonard wasn’t up to protesting anymore.

It’s not like it’s the first time it’s happened, though. Or even the second or third, honestly. Granted, some of those times he was hardly in distress unless you were calling the situation in his pants a medical emergency, but Mick’s saved Leonard from his own stubbornness by carrying him away from it more times than Leonard cares to admit. 

Funny. Leonard’s always thought of their roles being the other way around.

Leonard doesn’t like admitting to his own weaknesses. He doesn’t mind it so much in others, though. Mick has a tendency to lose his temper at inopportune times, can go out of control if fire’s involved and, surprisingly for some people, has a soft spot for animals. Lisa likes the strays as well, though hers tend to be more complicated and usually walk on two legs instead of four. She also has a hard time seeing her own self-worth, which is something that Leonard could happily kill their father all over again for beating into her. Lisa’s the best thing that’s ever happened to Leonard.

He’d probably be dead long before now if it wasn’t for her.

Be dead if it wasn’t for Mick, too, which is something that Lisa and Mick share and makes it painfully obvious where Leonard’s weaknesses lie. Leonard dares a glance over at Mick and finds him still staring. His heart aches in that funny way it does sometimes when he thinks of Mick or finds Mick looking at him.

Leonard knows what it is. He’s known for a long while. It’s just not something that he can admit. It’s a weakness, after all. That’s what people say.

“It might be best for you to remain in the Infirmary overnight, Mr. Snart,” Gideon says as the last laser beam finishes and flickers out of sight.

“Not going to happen.” He wonders if Gideon has anyway of forcing the issue—he wouldn’t put it past the artificial intelligence to be hiding some kind of restraints somewhere aboard the ship—but figures that they’ll cross that bridge if they come to it. 

He’s been in the Infirmary for an hour or so now, lying back while Gideon did its thing and thinks that maybe, just maybe he can totter his way off to his own room. Maybe even walk normal for awhile until Mick can’t see him anymore. Appear strong.

“You should listen to the computer,” Mick rumbles. “It probably knows what it’s talking about.”

Leonard ignores him. He’s already appeared weak enough as it is. Sara’s already come in to tell him that he’s an idiot. Jax had slipped in next to her and had given Mick a few hard glances that Mick had flatly and silently returned, unimpressed with Jax’s bravado. Thankfully, the rest of the crew’s stayed away which is good because hopefully the next time they see him, he’ll be on his feet with his masks back in place and they can pretend this whole little shitshow never happened.

That’s the plan anyway. His body has other ideas. Leonard’s legs hold him upright for approximately three steps before collapsing underneath him. Mick catches him again. Fucking bridal style.

Leonard finds himself tucked against Mick’s chest, just as hard and warm as he remembers it being, and it would be so easy to simply let himself stay there. But unacceptable. He pushes himself away. Mick, stubbornly, doesn’t let him. “Mick,” he says warningly and tries again.

“What are you going to do, Len, whip me to death with your tongue? ‘Cause that’s not all that scary and you’re not up to fighting anyone so you might as well get comfortable.” Leonard’s brain takes a moment to reboot, losing him precious time and distance as Mick carries him out of the Infirmary and heads to the sleeping quarters. It’s hard to think, though, when he keeps getting stuck on the fact that Mick used his name. Just tossed it into the conversation like there’s nothing big about saying it, that he hasn’t confessed to something that makes Leonard’s heart stutter in his chest.

They’re near the line of rooms, where just anyone can walk out and see them, when Leonard remembers how to speak. “I can walk,” he says, pushing against Mick’s chest again. He’ll lean against the wall if nothing else.

Mick snorts. “No you can’t.” He keeps walking like there’s no argument at all. Leonard grits his teeth.

“Mick, put me down.”

“Why, so you can fall on your face?”

“So I can punch you in yours,” Leonard says, narrowing his eyes.

Mick glances down at him but doesn’t stop. “Just as easy to do it from there, I expect. You’d catch me all unaware because if you can throw a punch right now, I’d be surprised.” Leonard shifts, hoping to use his body weight to topple out of Mick’s arms but Mick adjusts his grip and holds him tighter. “Lenny, if you want to cause a scene out here for everyone to see, then go ahead and do it, but I’m thinking that you’d rather not let anybody see you like this.” By the time that Leonard notices that his mouth is hanging open and closes it, Mick’s already walking him inside his room and setting him on the bed.

It’s a painfully familiar sight, having Mick back in his room. He walks around like he belongs, reaching down to tug at the laces of Leonard’s boots and Leonard supposes that, yes, he does belong. That as far as Leonard’s concerned, Mick’s never stopped belonging. “I…” Mick pulls off Leonard’s right boot and drops it to the floor. “I can…” The left follows. Leonard closes his eyes. “I love you.” The words catch in his throat and he doesn’t dare look at Mick, too scared of what he’ll see.

Pity. Disgust. Nothing at all. It’s hard to tell which would be worse.

A long moment passes and the bed dips beside Leonard as Mick settles into place beside him. It’s at once familiar and foreign. Leonard stays put. “I was never going to hurt Lisa.”

Mick’s staring at his own knees, his hands flat against his thighs. “Wouldn’t hurt her. Just thought that I wanted to hurt you.” He lapses back into silence.

“Thought?” Leonard asks.

Mick sighs and lies back on the bed, looking just like he had just a few short days ago. Only Leonard knows that it’s been years for Mick. Though he wishes otherwise, Leonard’s not made of ice. He can’t stop the emotions that well up from the depths. At the moment, he can’t even stop them from showing on his face. Mick’s fingers leave his thighs to hover over Leonard’s. They don’t touch, but move like they want to. “If you’re waiting for me to hurt you again, Lenny,” Mick says, “you’re going to be waiting a while.”

Mick looks at him then and Leonard had thought that he knew all of Mick’s expressions. This one, though, eludes him. Mick’s dancing fingers rise to trace the lines of Leonard’s face, still hovering above Leonard’s skin. Leonard wants Mick to move that half an inch closer, to touch him in a way that has little to do with sex and everything to do with something else.

It’s a weakness, these feelings. He should move away, put the walls back up, deny what’s inside of him.

Leonard finds he doesn’t care anymore. 

Mick’s hand drops away and he clears his throat, but he doesn’t leave. He stays on the bed beside Leonard, his arms crossed. Leonard stares at where Mick’s knee is nearly touching his hip and just lets his mouth say what it wants to say. “I know we said that words wouldn’t fix anything. But tomorrow maybe we could…”

“Yeah,” Mick says gruffly. “Sure, Len. We’ll do that.”

Leonard nods and lets himself fall back against the pillows, his heart squeezing in his chest in a way that’s painful, familiar, and, for perhaps the first time, welcome. 

Weakness will get you killed. Leonard understands that. But he’s starting to wonder if this that’s between him and Mick is a weakness at all. 

It doesn’t feel like one.


End file.
